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The Guardian
21-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
From ‘unpublishable' to acclaim and starry adaptations: Max Porter's Grief is the Thing With Feathers at 10
The final words of Max Porter's Grief is the Thing With Feathers are 'Unfinished. Beautiful. Everything'. So it has been for the slender novella, about a father and his sons grieving the loss of their wife and mother. Somewhat improbably for an experimental hybrid of poem and prose featuring a giant talking crow, Porter's debut has not only been a massive success, but has continued to evolve. Since it was published a decade ago, it's been translated into 36 languages and adapted for stage and screen, including a theatre show starring Oscar winner Cillian Murphy and a film starring Benedict Cumberbatch, due for release later this year. The book's latest evolution is an Australian stage adaptation, premiering at Sydney's Belvoir St Theatre this month. There have already been five stage productions, and a dance adaptation and Slovenian puppet version are on the way; an opera is in development. All this seems remarkable to Porter. 'You know, Grief was not even a publishable proposition to most people that looked at it first,' he says. Porter was more aware than most debut writers of the odds stacked against his novel: he was working in publishing when he wrote it, and keenly aware how his book's fragmentary narrative and experimental prose – which the Guardian described at the time as 'a freewheeling hybrid of novella, poem, essay and play-for-voices' – was risky. Then there's its dense threading of literary references and allusions – and the anthropomorphic crow, inspired by Ted Hughes' 1970 poem cycle Crow. Porter wrote Grief in the gaps of a busy life working in publishing and fathering two young boys, inspired by his experience of losing his father as a child and by his relationship with his brother. In the story, a writer and his two young sons grappling with fresh grief are visited by a human-sized talking crow, who takes up residence in their flat and assumes the role of therapist and babysitter – or as Porter has described him, 'Lady in Black and Mary Poppins, analyst and vandal'. The story chimed with readers, finding an audience as much through personal recommendations as through rave reviews and awards (including the £30,000 International Dylan Thomas prize). Dua Lipa, introducing the novel to her book club audience in April, described it as a 'lyrical, surreal meditation on loss' that simultaneously broke her heart and made her laugh. Reflecting on the enduring appeal and many adaptations, Porter says: 'I guess the imaginary crow and, you know, the everlasting conundrum of human grief, is enough for people to want to play around with still.' Most authors are happy to leave adaptations to others, approving the parameters of the project and then stepping away. Not Porter: he likes to muck in. 'I'm 98% collaboration,' he says – perhaps surprisingly, given he's published four books in the last decade, and just finished his fifth. 'Like, occasionally I will find myself on my own, needing to get some work done, but generally I want to be working with others.' Sign up for the fun stuff with our rundown of must-reads, pop culture and tips for the weekend, every Saturday morning He sat in on early workshops of the Irish stage version with Cillian Murphy and director Enda Walsh, attended a work-in-progress showing of the dance version premiering in Birmingham next year, and has had several chats with the Belvoir team over the show's long gestation. That's not to say he's proscriptive about adaptations: 'I always say this: the book is yours. It's supposed to be fluid and pull-apart-able,' he says. 'It's a book with lots of white space so that the reader can do that work, anyway. You know, it's your flat, it's your sibling relationship. It's your crow.' Sign up to Saved for Later Catch up on the fun stuff with Guardian Australia's culture and lifestyle rundown of pop culture, trends and tips after newsletter promotion But for Porter – a 43-year-old who converses with the enthusiasm of a preteen boy – discussing his work with other artists and storytellers is energising. 'I had a Zoom chat with [Australian director Simon Phillips] the other day, and it was like, right into the belly of the thing – right into the syntax of it, and the meaning behind some of Crow's language and some of the dad's material. And I was like, this is right back to being interesting again for me,' he says. The Belvoir production, co-adapted by Phillips with lighting and set designer Nick Schlieper and actor Toby Schmitz, will feature video, illustrations and a live cellist on stage. Schmitz, playing both Dad and Crow, says the production is infused with the make-believe spirit of theatre and child's play. 'Sleight of hand, misdirection, all the old theatre magic tricks come into play. Can a blanket be not just a blanket? What can a feather be? … There's something incredible about the suspension of disbelief in theatre.' Schmitz, who also works part-time in his family's bookstore in Newtown, heard about Porter's novel from customers long before he read it: 'People are always asking for it,' he says. 'The book is so magnificent, the text is so unique and delicious … I think it lends itself wonderfully – quite effortlessly – to performance.' He relates to the character of Dad, a 'literary boffin type figure', as both an author (his novel The Empress Murders was published in May) and a father – at time of speaking, juggling rehearsals with the whirlwind of school holidays. Crow is something more mysterious, however – 'full of infinite possibility,' he says. 'I've been swinging from Mary Poppins to Tom Hardy thuggery.' Porter, who will visit Sydney for the play's opening, says he's excited to see what the Australian team have made of his novel. 'I think I find something different every time,' he says of the story's various iterations. 'It's still interesting – it's not like a piece of dead, old, early work. For me, it feels like a living, breathing proposition still, that keeps moving.' Grief is the Thing with Feathers is on at Belvoir St Theatre, Sydney, 26 July to 24 August
Sydney Morning Herald
16-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
An unmissable chance to see two acting greats on stage together
THEATRE THE SPARE ROOM Belvoir St Theatre, June 12 Until July 13 Reviewed by JOHN SHAND ★★★½ As improbable as this seems when we gaze out upon a broken world, or scrutinise our own chaotic lives, living is the easy part. Dying is the trick: not the last breath itself, but the lead-up, once mortality grips you, and asks whether you fight or accept. Helen Garner's confronting novel The Spare Room, peppered with a harsh, dry humour, tells of this. Written in the first person, and drawn from her own experience, it casts Helen as a woman in her 60s dealing with the muddled way of dying of her friend of 15 years, Nicola. Riddled with cancer, Nicola has come to Melbourne to stay in Helen's spare room while embracing alternative therapies. These become an option for the fighter (rather than the acceptor) when the real remedies have been exhausted. Belvoir artistic director Eamon Flack has adapted Garner's book and directed this production starring two of our finest actors: Judy Davis (Helen) and Elizabeth Alexander (Nicola). The challenge in adapting a first-person novel is escaping the narrator's exclusive viewpoint, and dramatising the moment – not what Helen tells us of that moment. In this, Flack only partially succeeds. Garner has Helen hold an almost entirely negative assessment of Nicola from only days into the latter's three-week 'treatment' (which involves bilious doses of intravenous vitamin C). She sees through the quackery, and becomes furious Nicola can't do the same. But in a play we can't just have Helen's viewpoint: we need to understand Nicola more. Flack's overly reverential adaptation means we don't know what initially underpinned their friendship, and with our perception of Nicola being that of Helen, it's impossible to sympathise with Nicola's predicament. She becomes a cypher for victimhood. The play could have drawn us into their friendship, and then switched into a conflict over the dodgy therapy and how to deal with death. The actors give it their best shot. Davis's compelling edginess, chiselled features and physical angularity are the polar opposite of Alexander's wafting, accommodating vulnerability in depicting Nicola's denial and conflict avoidance. The shame is that Alexander's not given more a chance to be a Nicola with an interior and suffering beyond Helen's knowledge because when she finally rages against her lot towards the end, the play is suddenly as electric as Davis has been all along. Emma Diaz, Alan Dukes and Hannah Waterman are all admirable in multiple incidental roles, and Mel Page has created a fluid, naturalistic set. On-stage cellist Anthea Cottee realises Phoebe Pilcher's autumnal score, almost becoming more of a foil for Davis's character than Nicola. Sit near the front if you can because vocal projection is not all it should be, and Flack has blocked the action deep on the stage, distant from the back rows. Nonetheless, he's caught the book's mix of tenderness and harshness, plus the chance to see Davis and Alexander together should not be missed.
The Age
16-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
An unmissable chance to see two acting greats on stage together
THEATRE THE SPARE ROOM Belvoir St Theatre, June 12 Until July 13 Reviewed by JOHN SHAND ★★★½ As improbable as this seems when we gaze out upon a broken world, or scrutinise our own chaotic lives, living is the easy part. Dying is the trick: not the last breath itself, but the lead-up, once mortality grips you, and asks whether you fight or accept. Helen Garner's confronting novel The Spare Room, peppered with a harsh, dry humour, tells of this. Written in the first person, and drawn from her own experience, it casts Helen as a woman in her 60s dealing with the muddled way of dying of her friend of 15 years, Nicola. Riddled with cancer, Nicola has come to Melbourne to stay in Helen's spare room while embracing alternative therapies. These become an option for the fighter (rather than the acceptor) when the real remedies have been exhausted. Belvoir artistic director Eamon Flack has adapted Garner's book and directed this production starring two of our finest actors: Judy Davis (Helen) and Elizabeth Alexander (Nicola). The challenge in adapting a first-person novel is escaping the narrator's exclusive viewpoint, and dramatising the moment – not what Helen tells us of that moment. In this, Flack only partially succeeds. Garner has Helen hold an almost entirely negative assessment of Nicola from only days into the latter's three-week 'treatment' (which involves bilious doses of intravenous vitamin C). She sees through the quackery, and becomes furious Nicola can't do the same. But in a play we can't just have Helen's viewpoint: we need to understand Nicola more. Flack's overly reverential adaptation means we don't know what initially underpinned their friendship, and with our perception of Nicola being that of Helen, it's impossible to sympathise with Nicola's predicament. She becomes a cypher for victimhood. The play could have drawn us into their friendship, and then switched into a conflict over the dodgy therapy and how to deal with death. The actors give it their best shot. Davis's compelling edginess, chiselled features and physical angularity are the polar opposite of Alexander's wafting, accommodating vulnerability in depicting Nicola's denial and conflict avoidance. The shame is that Alexander's not given more a chance to be a Nicola with an interior and suffering beyond Helen's knowledge because when she finally rages against her lot towards the end, the play is suddenly as electric as Davis has been all along. Emma Diaz, Alan Dukes and Hannah Waterman are all admirable in multiple incidental roles, and Mel Page has created a fluid, naturalistic set. On-stage cellist Anthea Cottee realises Phoebe Pilcher's autumnal score, almost becoming more of a foil for Davis's character than Nicola. Sit near the front if you can because vocal projection is not all it should be, and Flack has blocked the action deep on the stage, distant from the back rows. Nonetheless, he's caught the book's mix of tenderness and harshness, plus the chance to see Davis and Alexander together should not be missed.
Time Out
15-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
The Spare Room
Many of us try not to think about death too much. Even if it is discussed or thought about, it's considered in the abstract – a distant experience we will deal with someday, maybe later. From beloved Australian novelist Helen Garner, The Spare Room brings the later to now in an unflinchingly raw and brutal confrontation with death. Adapted and directed by Belvoir St Theatre 's artistic director Eamon Flack (Counting and Cracking), these heavy themes are carried with compassion, humour and drama in an evocative performance that lingers long after the final moment. After going through multiple rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, Nicola (Elizabeth Alexander) decides to stay with her old friend Helen (Judy Davis) in Melbourne for three weeks while she undertakes an alternative cancer treatment. From Vitamin C-infused IV drips to sitting naked in 'ozone saunas', these alternative therapies claim to destroy cancer much in the same manner an octopus can break rocks. (Their words, not mine.) The three weeks force both Nicola and Helen to go beyond the platitudes and formalities, and to confront the raw and infuriating experience of both having a terminal illness, and supporting a loved one through it. a provocative portrayal of the communal experience of death The play commences with a profound silence, held by Helen for a moment longer than comfortable. Davis's command and authority are masterfully established in this stillness, and do not falter for the rest of the performance. With skill and precision, Davis is able to balance her character's deeply loving and tender side with the angry and pragmatic. There's an air of Fleabag to her perfectly-timed breakings of the fourth wall. (Perhaps this could be Phoebe Waller-Bridge's next inspiration? There's even a mention of a guinea pig, too!). It's a performance that pulls you in with a stare and refuses to let go. Equally as moving and complex is Alexander's performance, as she juggles the pain of Nicola's cancer journey with her resilience and hope. Alexander embodies a compassionate lens within her characterisation of Nicola, a woman whose unbridled optimism will not be tamed by the prospect of death. The internal conflict between empathising with Nicola and bewilderment at her health decisions deepens the emotional tension, raising questions about agency, denial, and how we choose to face death. The lead duo is supported by a strong ensemble, with Emma Diaz, Alan Dukes and Hannah Waterman morphing seamlessly between the various roles they portray. The characters are enhanced by Mel Page 's lived-incostume design. This narrow snapshot of Nicola and Helen's lives doesn't leave much room for flamboyant and extravagant attire, but the understated costumes speak volumes, grounding each character in authenticity and allowing the actors' performances to take centre stage. The live musical performance from cellist Anthea Cottee (composed by Steve Francis) creates a haunting undertone, foregrounding Nicola's imminent death against the backdrop of her and Helen's humorous quips and day-to-day exasperations. (However, the non-diegetic score at times undermines the naturalistic dialogue, sacrificing realism for an oversaturation of rhythmic dread.) In translating Garner's novel for the stage, Flack manipulates dramatic time in order to craftily build on the themes frustration and sacrifice. The almost two-hour runtime (with no intermission) coupled with the (intentionally curated) dragging pace and Paul Jackon 's lighting design (a poetic exploration of the passage of time) allows the audience to experience Helen's impatience and fury in real time. From the longer days to the struggling nights with Nicola, you don't just grow to empathise with Helen – her frustration becomes your own. In collapsing the distance between character and audience, Flack reminds us that this story isn't only about the dying, but about those left to care for them. The Spare Room is a confronting yet artistic meditation on dying and death. Although occasionally slowed down by its own weight, it is a provocative portrayal of the communal experience of death. The play doesn't try to soften the reality of death, but instead offers a moment of clarity, encouraging us to sit with the discomfort just a little longer than we might usually allow ourselves to.
Time Out
24-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
Big Girls Don't Cry
Friendship is at the heart of Big Girls Don't Cry, a gorgeous slice-of-life drama that takes us back to 1960s Redfern, where three young Aboriginal women are gearing up for the biggest night of the year – the Deb Ball. Playwright and star Dalara Williams balances the bitter and the sweet in this engaging rom-com-inflected drama. As Cheryl (Williams), Queenie (Megan Wilding) and Lulu (Stephanie Somerville) navigate life's ups and downs, audiences at Belvoir St Theatre are gifted with an all-too-rarely seen window into Blak sisterhood. While for these women, injustice may tarnish everything from going to work to walking the streets, where racist cops roam – nothing in the world can shake the sacred joy of a trio of girlfriends gathered in a bedroom and getting ready for a night out, tearing through outfit options and gossiping. Not even Cheryl's concern for her beloved Michael (Mathew Cooper), who's serving in Vietnam. However, could the distracting pull of the charming Milo (Nic English) be strong enough to tear her away from re-reading the same old love letters? Inspired by her grandmothers' stories and snapshots of history found in family photo albums, Williams has crafted an uplifting and entertaining drama that also doesn't shy away from the violence and injustices of our all-too-recent history, and prompts us to question how much has really changed. Big Girls is not necessarily ground-breaking in its form, and it needn't be, especially with a cast this good. Dalara Williams balances the bitter and the sweet in this engaging rom-com-inflected drama... an all-too-rarely seen window into Blak sisterhood In particular, Megan Wilding cements her place as one of the most charismatic presences on the Sydney stage as Queenie – she can convey more with a twitch of her eyebrow or a tilt of her head than any spoken dialogue could ever hope to. In a moment of tremendous vulnerability, she delivers a tearful confession about her fear of letting in the one man who could love her fully – a speech that will strike a chord with any misfit woman who has been told that she is both 'too much' and 'not enough'. Queenie's humour, her outgoingness, and her love of an attention-grabbing dress are all part of the armour she wears to survive a cruel world. But this script also doesn't do her the disservice of stripping away her unique qualities in order to allow her to grow. Meanwhile, Guy Simon deserves an honourable mention for his performance as Cheryl's outspoken brother Ernie, it's an interesting contrast to his recent turn on the Belvoir stage as the star of Jacky, and his evolving dynamic with Wilding's Queenie is particularly delightful. Heartbreak High star Bryn Chapman Parish also holds his own as a detestable police officer; and Nic English gives us an "other man" that we can root for in Milo, also convincingly holding space for the precarious line he walks as a second-generation Italian immigrant in 1960s Australia. The production does crave a little more polish. For example, the revolving stage makes for some interesting movement and smooth transitions, but at times, it can be difficult to hear the actors' voices over the rumble of its operation. Director Ian Michael is certainly not taking as many big swings as he did with his recent reimagining of Picnic at Hanging Rock for STC, and perhaps that's a good thing – getting too experimental here would only distract from the deeply human drama of it all. However, for a debut presentation, Big Girls is a deeply charming and hopeful story that harnesses the great empathy machine of theatre to achieve one of the greatest things it can do – which is to understand ourselves, others, and our society more deeply. It is an accessible entry point to learn more about the Indigenous rights movement in this country, the empowering legacy of Aboriginal debutante balls, and also, it's bloody good drama that we need to see more of.
